


Small Flares

by BluePines



Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Azel has a rough time, Canonical Character Death, I'm not sure if I should tag PTSD in this, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multiple occasions of fire, Other, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:14:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluePines/pseuds/BluePines
Summary: The personal fires that followed Azelle throughout his life.
Relationships: Arvis & Azelle (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Small Flares

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to go over this again, but I assume it's written well. If there's any criticism you have please tell me so I can make improvements, but you don't have to. I really love the conflict that there would be between Azelle and Arvis after Belhalla.

Sparks

Fire was the power that filled Azelle’s veins, the blood of the crusader of flame Flajar. Arvis was the inheritor of Valflame but Azelle could easily bend the element to his will. Azelle was five when Arvis showed him how to use a tome properly. At first, he could Azelle could only create small sparks of flame dance in the palm of his hand.

It wasn’t much, most young kids his age would get upset. He couldn’t create a true flame but he was mesmerized with sparks for the time being.

Blaze

Azelle was seven when he met Talitiu and Lex. Lex didn’t have an interest or the skill for magic. Tailtiu on didn’t specialize in fire like Azelle but instead conjured lightning. At that time Azelle could only manage a small flame. Spoken it wasn’t impressive, but Tailtiu and Lex were surprised by it. It may be small but burned powerfully and bright.

Burst

He was fifteen when he helped Sigurd fight off bandits from Verdane. The small flares and sparks were now large bursts of fire. Deep orange and excruciatingly painful, sharp screams escaped his adversaries. The evening after the fight he found himself unable to sleep. Screams haunting him, and the icy feeling that he used to be so mesmerized by it. He wondered about Arvis, he knew he’d be panicked when he left.

Azelle curled upon himself more. Did Arvis feel the same things, did he feel the burn of Valflame when he used it? For Azel standing next to Arvis while he held the holy tome made him feel feverishly hot. Part of him wanted to go back home, but he wanted to help Sigurd and save Edain. No. He _needed_ to.

Bonfire

He didn’t know what words were being exchanged between Arvis and Sigurd but they were heated. Azelle felt his heart drop as he noticed the deep red, leather-bound tome in hidden under Arvis’s cloak. He snapped his head to the mages that surrounded them and felt time stop when he saw the meteor tomes. Azelle snapped his head left to see his companions, Lex shot him a raised eyebrow as did Tailtiu.

He couldn’t form the words, only mouthed, ‘run.’ Azelle felt the air get hot, his mind frantically trying to search for an answer to why. He could hear the flipping of pages and terror boiled inside him.

“Arvis you Dastard!”

Sigurd’s infuriated shout cut across the air, Lex began to look concerned and Tailtiu looked terrified. He knew what was next. Why? Why was this happening?

“RUN!” Azelle screamed.

Tailtiu let out a small shriek and Lex pulled the reins of his stallion quickly. Azelle went to turn his mare around when hot air shot at them from behind and the ground shook. Tailtiu finally let out a scream, ducking low, Lewyn clasping a hand against her wrist. When Azelle looked back all he saw was fire. Unlike his, they were larger and snaked into the blue sky.

Before he could react he was surrounded by them, feeling the painful burn of smoke in his lungs. Something landed brutally hard in front of Azelle, he was thrown from his mount. His back collided heavily with the shaking earth, the air in his lungs escaped him. He coughed and wheezed only inhaling thick smoke. His throat burned and he couldn’t feel the ground under him.

Azelle shut his eyes tightly when the deep red flares of Valflame surrounded him. He could only continue to cough, the screams of his friends piercing the flames. The same screams that were released by the people he’d slain were now worn by his comrades. Azelle wanted to scream with them, but found the world going black resting in the painful warmth of magic.

Blue Flame

When Azelle barely cracked his eyes open he thought was in a field. The field outside Dozel manor, the one where Tailtiu, Lex, and Azelle would lay and simply laugh. But it didn’t smell like summer grass or wildflowers, instead it was the strong scent of medicine. Azelle could feel cloth clung to his skin, it was soft and oddly cold.

Azelle heard low murmurs and forced his eyes to open further. Instead of a blue sky, it was a dark stone ceiling with deep red curtains draped from it. _Deep red_ , Azelle thought briefly. Azelle’s eyes snapped fully open in a panic he tried to call out for someone; Lex, Tailtiu, his mother, anyone. He tried to roll away but his body wouldn’t move, nothing came out of his throat. It ached and burned, he tried to roll away again when two large hands held him in place.

Azelle shot his eyes to them, seeing a familiar set of ruby red eyes looking back at him. Azelle wanted to feel relaxed but if anything he felt more scared. Arvis had a solemn look on his face, lips pressed into a thin line.

Azelle tried to ask, “why?”, but all that came out was a broken string of air. It hurt to speak and the wince that followed wasn’t much better.

Arvis sat on a chair nearby, putting his hand on Azelle’s head. “Don’t speak,” he whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

Azelle wanted to push him away, protest his soft words. His body could barely move, he just laid there, his head sinking into the pillow.

Azelle wanted to ask where Lex was, Tailtiu, or even Jamke. He knew the sickening answer in the pit of his stomach, but he wanted to believe. That Midir had saved Brigid, Lewyn saved Tailtiu, that Lex for once in his life had fled from the fight. No. It wasn’t a fight it was a massacre.

Azelle felt tears burn in his eyes, he didn’t want to cry but he knew. There was no way they were alive, he was only alive by pure chance. Fate had taken away truly competent people. Prince Quan and Lady Ethlyn died in Yied, Sigurd was burnt alive by Valflame, everyone he fought with just gone. He did his best to sallow his sobs, but his tears were wiped away by his brother and it only made him feel worse.

Extinguished

Three weeks had based since the day he made it Belhalla, in what they called the Battle of Belhalla(it wasn’t a fight). Azelle was confined to his chambers in the palace, even if he wasn’t his unsteady legs wouldn’t get him far. He spent most of his time sitting around reading or simply sitting alone with dark thoughts. His body was laced in large scars from burns, Arvis had given him gloves for his hands.

The crisp air of Autumn gave him some chills, but he never lit the fireplace. When one of the servants did they told Azelle heard he’d stared at it blankly for an hour before they put it out. Fire practically ran through his veins and he couldn’t even manage to be near it. He knew the first snow would fall soon. Azelle remembered Silesse with a morbid smile.

Azelle still found himself unable to speak without it being painful. Arvis called in multiple different clerics but they all said, they “feared” Azelle would never speak again. Arvis would dismiss them and try another, like he was hoping for a different answer every time.

A low knock pulled Azelle from his thoughts, his heart stopped for a moment when he saw his visitor. Arvis had told him of his joyous union to Deirdre, but Azelle could never find himself ever to believe it. She stood there in the doorway, with her signature small smile and long lilac hair still swept behind her shoulders. She entered the small room slowly, a servant followed her place a tray with tea on the table Azelle was sitting at then left.

“It’s an honor to meet you, lord brother,” Deirdre said softly once the door shut. “I’ve wanted to meet with you for a while now. But it took Arvis some amount of convincing.”

All Azelle could do was nod, clutching at the rim of his black coat. Deirdre walked over to the table, picking up one of two teacups. She handed it to him carefully before sitting across from him.

“It’s a brew I had made,” Deirdre piped cheerfully. “It helps with sore throats.”

Azelle smiled at that, _so she didn’t forget that_ , he thought warmly. Once after her and Sigurd’s union(he tried not to flinch) Noish had lost his voice from him celebrating. Deirdre made this tea for him. Honey and daisy-like flowers, it brought back bitter memories.

“Arvis may not say it but he hopes this helps,” she mused. “He cares deeply for you.”

Azelle narrowed his eyes while he sipped his drink. Deirdre slightly deflated, taking a sip as well.

“Arvis told me your good at chess?”

Failing to Burn

“Why don’t you at least try?” Arvis asked, sitting on the mattress with him.

Azelle knew he could speak, when his terrified mumbles from his nightmares woke him up. Azelle had thought he was ready to ask all his questions, but he just felt so terrified. He eighteen dammit, why did he feel so small?

“Azelle.” Arvis’s voice was rough.

Azelle shot him a pained look and Arvis sighed heavily. He stood from the bed and stalked over to the window and stared at the vibrant leaves falling from their branches.

“Sigurd forced my hand, there was no room for negotiation.” Arvis began, Azelle curled his hands into fists. “It wasn’t your fault, he played his cards close to his chest.”

“That’s a lie!” Azelle yelled, his voice was raw. “Even if it were true! Then why!? Why, why did they all have to…”

Azelle’s throat burned at his outburst, he hung his head low and tried to steady his breathing.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Arvis replied with a pained tone.

“You’ve taught me everything I know!” Azelle shot back. “Magic, to read, write,” he paused. “Betrayal.” Arvis flinched at that. “So let me learn why…”

Arvis looked conflicted, “this isn’t something you need to know.”

“Don’t I deserve to know why innocent people had to die? I was there Arvis! Just tell me!”

“No.”

Arvis shot a glare through Azelle, he let his anger die and shut his mouth. Azelle looked away from his brother, he couldn’t bring himself to cry, his tears were dry by the time he awoke in the morning. He didn’t want Arvis to comfort him, try to close the wounds he made. A hand lifted his hand by his chin, Arvis forced Azelle to look him in the eyes.

Azel simply shook his head slowly, wanting to feel safe but feeling cornered. Arvis carefully embraces him ruffling Azelle’s hair like he did when he was a child.

Reignition

Azelle was now nineteen, seen as the younger brother of the Emperor of Grannvale, Arvis. He was still only allowed in certain parts of the palace, his room, the library, and a study Arvis had given him. Today he was informed he could visit the nursery to meet the new prince and princess of Grannvale. To him, he got to meet his niece and nephew even if only once.

He entered the blue decorated room, in awe seeing one of the small babies in Deirdre’s arms. He quickly approached her and Arvis, looking down at them gently.

“That’s Julia,” Arvis informed him. “This one here is Julius.”

Azelle looked to the baby Arvis held and saw the wisps of bright red hair swept across his head. Azelle looked back to Julia and saw the pale lilac hair on her head. Azelle smiled warmly, remembering how excited he was to see Seliph when he was born. Azelle’s smile faded, but he quickly tried to recover his mistake, Deirdre didn’t remember Sigurd as her husband, let alone her son with him.

In Azelle’s attempt to recover he tried to pull something from within him. It had been a year since Azelle had used a tome but he made a few sparks light up at his fingertips. Someone tightly clasped his shoulders, pulling him back. Azelle looked back to see what he’d done wrong and another guard simply pushed his head down.

Arvis opened his mouth to intervene but high pitched laughter stopped him. Julius reached out for one of the sparks that soon disappeared. The baby continued to reach out for it as if it would come back.

“Let him go,” Arvis ordered.

Azelle stumbled forward when he was let go, Arvis simply nodded. Azelle made a few more sparks keeping them out of reach from his nephew to not burn him. Soon his niece tried to reach for them as well, and Azelle simply smiled with a warm feeling in him.

Put Out

Azelle found himself crying by the window after he was told Leonster had fallen. He’d never been but he remember Quan and Ethlyn, the red sand as they moved on from Phinora, learning their daughter had died there as well. He mourned them, prayed Finn hadn’t died when it fell, but he couldn’t know. The infant prince was missing he heard, he begged fate for Thracia to not have taken an infants life.

He let out broken cries until all he could do was choke on air. He felt so broken and torn, he found himself wishing he’d died with Lex. He didn’t deserve to be here, he should’ve died that day. He didn’t deserve a bed while worthy people were likely dumped somewhere without honor. He looked to the fireplace, he scrambled to his feet and stood in front of it.

Azelle forced himself to make sparks and he lift the fireplace. The wood quickly caught fire and burned brightly, Azelle found himself lost. He heard heavy knocking on the door, but it was replaced him the screams of his dead comrades. Azelle slowly removed his gloves folding them and laying them on the bed. Azelle slowly kneeled before it finding the world going blank.

\---

Azelle began to believe fate was cruel, like he couldn’t die. All he ended up with was a desperate Arvis and burned hands. Was he meant to be alive? Was he here for a reason? To live knowing Lord Sigurd was innocent and know that he would have to die knowing he alone knew it? He wanted to scream every time he saw Deirdre, beg for her to remember her son, anything!

Azelle had nothing he could do mourning made him no better. Wishing and begging didn’t bring people back. Azelle was truly alone in his thoughts, he couldn’t confide to anyone. People already had wanted the Velthomer bastard to die but know Azelle now they wanted it more than anything. Azelle sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’ll carry them with me,” he muttered to himself.

New Sparks

Azelle thought he was going to collapse when he heard that Tailtiu was found in Silesse. He wanted to thank fate for letting her be alive but he also cursed it for having her dragged to Northern Thracia, to house Friege. While Azelle cursed fate his door burst open. Azelle jumped and looked to see his young nephew, Julius, looking up at him with a smile. Julia peeked out from behind him shyly.

Julius was tall for his age barely three, apparently he could reach door handles now. He walked over to Azel and showed him a red leather-bound tome, a flame engraved into it.

“You can make fire,” Julius said. “Right?”

“Does your father know you’re here?” Azelle asked, he was concerned about that more than his Julius’ question.

“Fire?” Julia asked, placing her hands on his knees.

Azelle bit the bottom of his lip, he was worried about them being here. If someone found him using a full flame near them he could be dead before Arvis could intervene. Azelle hadn’t used a tome in four years now, but he might as well indulge them while he could. Azelle sighed before opening the tome, already feeling power coursing through him.

Azelle placed his left hand over the pages and closed his eyes, _just a small one_. He lifted his hand turning it over, feeling warmth dance across his palm. He opened his eyes and a decently small flicker of fire sat in the air. Julia and Julius looked at it in awe, Julia reached out for it and Azelle let the flare die. Julia made a confused sound and looked at him with disappointment.

“If you touch it’ll burn you,” Azelle warned.

“Have you been burned before?” Julius asked, his eyes curious.

Azelle’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth, it was true that he had but not in the way they were thinking.

“I have,” Azelle answered slowly.

“Is that why you wear gloves?”

Azelle flinched at Julius’ words, he silently cursed young children’s lack of a filter. He couldn’t answer with words, sometimes he didn’t speak when he should so he just nodded. Julia looked upset and Julius still seemed curious.

“Can I see?” Julius asked bluntly.

Azelle swallowed and shut the tome, darted his eyes around the room. He didn’t ever want to have this conversation let alone with a young child, blood or not. There was a knock at the door and the door swung open before Azelle could respond. A guard entered and stood rigidly when he saw the imperial heirs standing by Azelle, he narrowed his eyes at the tome in his hand.

“You said they weren’t here when I asked earlier.” They pressed.

“They weren’t,” Azelle answered.

“Your highnesses,” they addressed the kids. “Her majesty is looking for you, you will be escorted to your rooms.”

The young children made defeated whines and were ushered out of the room. The guard shut the door loudly, glaring at Azelle.

“You know the rules, my lord.”

“Was I supposed to tell them to leave? They came here themselves, I simply did what they wanted.”

“The council made these rules for a reason.”

“Well, the council didn’t include rules on what they bring or if they come see me.”

“If it were entirely up to the council,” the guard hissed. “You would be hung, my lord.”

Azelle fell silent, they took the tome from his hands and left him in silence.

Crackling of Thunder and Flame

Azelle is twenty-four when he here’s from Arvis Julius is to marry Ishtar of Friege. He shoots to his feet and excitedly strides over to his brother, Arvis only comes to talk to him when he can now. The visit made him slightly happy but the news made him feel delighted. Arvis’s smile soon faded, when Azelle stopped in from of him.

“What’s wrong?” Azelle asked. “I thought you’d be overjoyed about this.”

Arvis inhaled deeply, “lady Tailtiu has committed suicide.”

Azelle’s heart dropped, “...what?”

“She jumped from the tallest spire in Alster,” Arvis continued. “I believed I should tell you.”

Azelle's eyes were cast downward, shock cut through him. Tailtiu, bright and charismatic didn’t fit suicide, he wanted to say no but Arvis wouldn’t lie about that. Azelle shook his head slowly and felt himself about to cry. Arvis leaned Azelle’s head into the crook of his neck and held him tight like he did when they were young. The last person Azelle knew he had was gone, her bubbly laughter was gone, and he’d never have anyone from his childhood again.

Reignition

The last four years passed in a blur, Azelle only found himself snagged out by the past week. Deirdre was dead, finally resting with Sigurd, Julia was missing, and Julius had practically lost his mind. Azelle couldn’t believe Julius killed Deirdre or even tried to kill Julia. The young boy who looked so much like Arvis but was gentle like Deirdre. When he caught of glimpse of his nephew and saw a blood-red brand on his head he knew something was wrong.

Arvis had shown him the brand of Flajar and Julius did not bear it. He didn’t know what brand it was but Azelle felt something evil brewing. When Arvis asked for an audience with him he knew it was going to boil over.

He carefully shut the door when he entered Arvis’s study, the castle was deathly silent. Arvis sat at his desk, face buried in his hand, his skin was pale and he looked disheveled.

“Arvis,” Azelle trailed painfully.

“Azelle,” Arvis croaked. “You already know.”

“Sadly,” he responded.

“Then,” Arvis began, looking up with a pained expression. “This is where we say goodbye.”

“What?” Azelle asked, he’d been wanted to leave Belhalla since he woke up after Arvis had blindsided them. He couldn’t leave him now, even if Azelle didn’t want there, Arvis was there when he broke down. “I can’t leave you, not now.”

“You will.” Arvis hissed.

“No.” Azelle protested.

Arvis narrowed his eyes, the same look he gave Sigurd when he drew Valflame he presumed. Azelle tried not to protest Arvis much, always being terrified of what he might do.

“You will go.” Arvis pressed, standing up. “I will not hesitate to have you removed by force.”

“Arvis,” Azelle pleaded.

“You are banished from Grannvale and you will go at once,” Arvis ordered. “Please go, I can’t lose you too.”

Azelle bit his lip and took a step closer, Arvis shot him a sad look. Azelle stopped and gave him a pained smile before spinning on his heel and bursting from Arvis’s study. He ran down the halls of the palace as fast as he could, before he finally made it outside. The wind cool March wind made him feel free, he found a soldier waiting with a horse nearby.

Azelle mounted as fast as he could, he blotted as far as he could. From where Sigurd drew his last breath, where Lex laid somewhere dead, where he last heard Tailtiu. Where he was kept trapped in a corridor for a decade, escaping the wounds of fate and cried when he felt the wind blow his hair back. He was still the sensitive boy he was when he still trusted Arvis, when he could only make small flares when Arvis could start wildfires.

Azelle finally let out an anguished scream he held for so long, riding out under the moonlight. Away from Grannvale and his old home, far from Verdane and Agustria. If he died to make it to Silesse he’d die free at last. Azelle felt fire burn within him and he pressed onward.

**Author's Note:**

> I spent eight hours writing this and honestly I spent a while trying to make sure i was spelling Azelle right and when did Jungby become Yngvi? When did that happen?


End file.
